In the Land of Women
by L'Amour de Femmes
Summary: Celebrating and encouraging femmeslash within the realm of Twilight fanfic. A series of femmeslash pieces; different stories, different pairings, different authors. Summaries for individual pieces are contained within each chapter.
1. Saturday Mornings

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

**A/N (please read):** This one shot is the first 'chapter' of **In the Land of Women**, a collaborative story effort. We love the increased interest in femmeslash in the fandom lately and we want to encourage more of it. We are looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. This is just a little added exposure. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.

**~Saturday Mornings~**

**Author Pen Name: fngrcufs**

**Summary: If you were so busy watching someone, really seeing them, you might never notice that they really saw you, too. Femmeslash. Alice/Jane. AH, OOC. Adult Situations. Alice/Jane**

School on a fucking Saturday. Well, it's better than sitting around listening to my parents fight about money at any rate. Plus...she's here. She's wearing her field hockey skirt so she must have a game later. I love how the pleats whisper across her thighs, the way her breasts strain against the fabric of her game shirt. She's got her blonde hair pulled back in a headband and I know that it smells like vanilla and cherries, or some fruity girl shit. The only reason I have any clue how her hair smells is because I brushed past her when she was getting books out of her locker one time. Okay, a bunch of times. It's not like she knows; she doesn't even know I exist. She looks right through me, like she doesn't even see me.

When Jane is in the room, all I see is her.

She's leaning in close to talk to that rich douchebag Edward. I wonder what he's even in here for. Golden Boy Cullen never takes a misstep. The school would fucking shut down for the day if he didn't show up. Jane and Edward are tight; they have the same friends who drive the same cars and they all hang out every weekend and drink the same booze from their parent's liquor cabinets. I have to assume some of this. It's not like I have any way of knowing what they really do outside of school. To them...I don't even register.

That girl? The one who sits in the back of the classroom and doesn't say a word and slumps down inside her hoodie and chews on her nails?

That's me.

If you asked half the people in this school my name, they would say they didn't know. The other half would say they didn't care. There are days when I just want to jump out of my seat and scream 'My fucking name is Alice, you fuckwads!' I never do though. It's high school, so we all have our roles to play. Mine is emo, too much black eyeliner lesbian girl whose name is probably at the top of the list in the Guidance Office because they all think I'm going to freak out someday. I'm really not. I just hate the whole high school bullshit drama, so I detach and say nothing and count the days until graduation...fifty-seven. I do this because I can't wait to leave this place, to go somewhere where I can be who I am and not have everyone judging me.

I dread the end of this too though. Once high school ends in a few months and we all go our separate ways, I may never see Jane again and I don't know how I'm going to function because she occupies my thoughts every goddamn day. I wonder how soft her skin is in that spot behind her knee. I think about how I want to rip that fucking headband off and watch the silken ribbons of champagne float around her face. She looks like a porcelain doll, all alabaster skin and wide eyes and barely flushed cheeks and I want to know if I touched her face, ran my fingers along the curve of her jaw, would she be cool like she looks or does she burn hot under all that good girl facade? And _that's _just what I think about during the day.

At night, when I'm alone in my room and the door is locked and my parent's angry voices are muffled downstairs, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to be _with _her. I drift away to a place where I touch her and she welcomes it, wants it, asks for it. In the world of my nights, Jane smiles at me and when I stand face to face with her, when I lean in to kiss her, her cornflower blue eyes light and her strawberry lips part and her cinnamon breath quickens. And because it's not real, because it's pure fantasy, I don't even have to lean all the way to her because she leans to me and then her lips are moving over mine, petal soft and slow and full of ache.

I can have her any way I want her in my perfect place. I can kiss her for hours, savoring the first moment that her tongue drags across my lower lip before she pushes inside. Or I can bump into her by the lockers, pressing fully against her 'by accident' and I can hear her heart race just from having me close. I can push her against the cool, metal door and stare into her eyes as I slip my hand underneath the scratchy pleats of her practice skirt and brush my fingers across the front of her cotton underwear. She's always ready for me, always waiting and wanting here in the realm of dreams, and she's always soaked all the way through the white fabric with the little pink bows on them...always. I can believe, just for those nights, that she even knows my name because she screams it out loud when I drop in front of her, pushing her stupid skirt out of the way, and I slide her panties down to her knees and lay my mouth against her soft curls and I touch her in places she's never been touched. "Alice, please...don't fucking stop," and I don't because soon enough I'll wake and it will be time to get up and go to school and go back to the real world where I'm not even a blip on her radar.

"Hey. Hey. Hello..." I look up from where I've been staring at my hands and imagining them tracing every inch of Jane and there is Bella Swan staring at me. She's the only person in this high school that I am even a shade cooler than. Because if it's bad to be the chick who everyone ignores, it's worse to be the one that everyone hates. Bella is a total nerd and she doesn't bother hiding her disdain for all of the people she deems stupider than her. She's a fucking pariah, but she seems to think that she and I are kin because no one likes me either. Newsflash...I can't fucking stand her.

"Bella," I say and by 'Bella' I mean "Bitch, what the fuck do you want?' She doesn't notice because if it isn't quantum physics or whatever shit she's going on about, she doesn't care.

"Er, hi. I was just going to ask...I mean, have you ever been in here before? Is it true we can't study?" She sounds like someone just popped her balloon at the fair.

I roll my eyes at her. "Yeah, I'm in here every Saturday because I'm a psycho headcase, of course." She looks contrite and I feel instantly guilty. Bella's never been a bitch to me; she's probably never been a bitch to anyone. She's just searching for someone else who doesn't fit in, hoping maybe the fact that we are both social outcasts means we can be that together. I'm not really interested, but that doesn't mean I have to act like an asshole about it either. I soften my tone. "I've never had detention before either, Bella, but I don't think we are allowed to study. We just have to sit here."

"Shit," she curses under her breath and the flushes pink and mutters 'sorry.' Like I care that she said shit. I just want her to turn back around and let me do my thing, which of course is daydream about fucking Jane for a month of Sundays on the library desk.

"Can you lame ass bitches please shut the fuck up. It's too early and I am too hungover to be listening to you talk about how laid you didn't get last night." Enter the bitch. Rounding out our little juvenile delinquent fivesome would be Miss Reform School Girl herself, Rosalie Hale. I'd shoot her a dirty look across the aisle, except I'm pretty sure she'd knife me. Rose does not fuck around. Nineteen if she's a day, she defines the stereotype of the girl from the wrong side of the trailer park with the chip on her shoulder and a switchblade in her back pocket. I know it's there too, because I was checking out her ass when she walked in. She's no Jane, but Rose is fucking stunning in her black leather and blue denim, her jeans looking like paint on her flesh and ripped in all the right places, not because it's fashionable but because they are worn the fuck out.

I don't say anything; I just look down at the desk again and imagine that I'm in the field behind the high school with Jane. We've just run laps at the track (yeah, it's my fantasy so I can run) and we're laying in the grass, sweaty and exhausted. She's sprawled out with her perfect breasts heaving lightly in her black sports bra and her hair spread out around her head, weaving in with the soft green blades of the lawn beneath her. Her sweatpants are slung low on her hips, exposing the slope of her abdomen where it meets with her hip bones. She wiggles a little, trying to pull them up, and I still her with my hand on her waist. I push myself up on one elbow and I stare down at this specimen of teenage perfection who is trying to catch her breath. Before she can calm the rapid fire panting in her chest, I'm leaning in and stealing her air by kissing her delicious mouth. No preamble, no workup, I just push my mouth against hers and suck on her pout until she groans, and when she does she opens her mouth just a little and I use that to my advantage. I'm running my tongue gently up under her top lip when I feel hers slide against mine. Jane tastes like spice and gorgeous girl, and her mouth is hot and soft and all over mine.

She makes these soft noises and she's still breathless, but not from the run anymore. Now she's inhaling too fast because she wants me to touch her. She wants my fingers to snake up her ribcage, so I do. She wants me to go higher, wants me to slide her sports bra up and over her breasts so I can run my palms over her tight, straining nipples, so I do that too. She wants me to pull it off of her so I can see her and stroke her heated flesh and take her swollen peaks into my mouth. And I do that, I taste her sweet skin and she makes louder moans now and her fingers weave into my ink black hair and pull me tighter against her and I'm already licking her flesh and teasing her other nipple with my fingers. I can't get any closer without going there but she's still crooning in my ear _more Alice, please_ and I know what she wants.

I move my hand away from her chest, ghosting it over her midsection and trailing my fingers across her bellybutton. She laughs lightly in between the quiet notes of her delight and when I dip the tips of my fingers below the waistband of her sweats her laughter cuts off with a hiss. She's soft, satin sheets and baby powder soft, and I can feel the tremors in her stomach as I sweep over her skin. And then I'm there, right at the brink, held back by a strip of cotton with gathered edges. I want nothing more than to get underneath them and _feel_ her. I hesitate, because even in my fantasy lives the hint of doubt that she wants me like this. I look up into her eyes, all clear cloudless skies, and I ask her. It's a silent plea. 'Tell me yes, accept me as is, love me back, please.' She stares back and I see it, the acquiescence there. More than that, even. The desire. She wants this, wants me, wants us to do this.

It is all I need. I burrow down under the fabric with my fingers, slow and tentative but with purpose. I rest my cheek on her stomach, watching the movement of my hand beneath the gray fabric. I find the thatch of downy hair, damp and tangled and the evidence that what her eyes say is not a lie. I go slow, lower, parting her and revealing her to my touch. I am instantly lost in the warmth of Jane, journeying unseeing into the depths of her, charting my course by instinct while I learn the landscape. The terrain changes quickly, warm becoming hot, satin giving way to velvet, hill sloping down into valley, until I am just outside. I hold my breath and close my eyes and leap, pushing inside her body and letting it suck me in, down, deeper than I've ever been, near drowning in her until her whispered 'Jesus' brings me back to the surface. I don't want to stay underwater and hold my breath for this. I want to watch the waves and feel the ebb and flow of her need. I want to be with her, completely with her when the undertow takes her. I work my fingers over her and inside her and I raise my head to meet her eyes, slits of azure now as she starts to come undone. I quicken and she slows and she freezes and she's not breathing as she comes, her entire body rigid and tight for a moment before she softens and takes a breath.

"Alice. Alice...ALICE!" A snapping and a hand on the tabletop and I am back in the library. Bella is turned around again and she's tapping my desk. "Alice...Mr. Berty is talking to you." I look up to the front of the room and there is my abrasive ass of an English teacher, staring and smirking. Oh fuck, how long was I gone? How obvious was it?

"Miss Brandon, so nice of you to revisit us. Planning your own funeral? Shall I have the school psychiatrist come in?"

I fucking hate this place. I hate small towns and the way the deal with anyone who is different. I hate the constant judgement from people who just can't fucking be bothered to understand. I'm not suicidal, I'm not depressed and no, I was not thinking of ways to off myself. I was thinking of how I'd love nothing more than to fuck your prospective prom-queen, Mr. Berty. Who would you call for that? King Cullen's doctor father, see if he can't fix my woman troubles? Bella's dad, the chief of police, because surely being gay is a crime, is it not? Maybe Jane's father, the mayor himself, see if he wouldn't like to have me run out of town on a rail for daring to dream about being the one rocking between his daughter's thighs instead of some steroid swallowing football fuck.

"Sorry. I was just..."

"Detention is not nap time, Miss Brandon. Perhaps some cardiovascular activity would help pep you up. Why don't you head down to the vending machines and get beverages for your fellow hellions." He looks at me and his cruelty is evident. I see him glance at her and I realize he knows. Fuck, he knows! "Jane will accompany you. I'm sure she can manage to keep you honest."

Jane peeks back at me over her shoulder as she stands. She turns to the front and doesn't look again as she makes her way to the exit door. She swings it open in front of her with a huff of breath, but she reaches her arm back and holds it for me. It means nothing. It's good breeding. Jane is unfailingly polite. The mayor expects no less from his princess.

As we walk the south corridor of the school, I stay slightly behind her. She doesn't even glance at me, just walks tall and proud, her hair swinging with every step. I have an amazing view of her legs, her endless legs, bare all the way from her low-cut white socks to the hem of her blue and gold plaid skirt. Her skin is pale and luminous in the hallway lights; she is every fantasy about a schoolgirl in this moment. My head is spinning with want again, filled with images of her. Jane...in my bedroom, touching my things. Jane...atop the soft, old quilt on my narrow bed. Jane...sliding her skirt down over her hips, tortuously slow. Jane...naked and open before me, softly pleading with me to make her come, hard and fast.

"What?" Her acidic tone pulls me back again. I've spent the entire day walking the knife's edge between the real world where she doesn't know I exist and my secret world where she and I are all that exist. I should hate her. I look at her and all I see in her eyes is fear and anger. I should loathe this girl for not being brave enough to look beyond her little world. I can't, though. I don't know how to hate Jane.

"Huh?" What is she asking me? We've stopped in the middle of the empty hall and she's facing me now, arms crossed tight against her.

"You stopped walking. And you were...staring at me." She pauses and seems to steel herself. "Again."

"I wasn't. I mean, I was just thinking about...stuff. I wasn't staring at you." Again? She's seen me watching her? I was so sure she never even knew I existed. "I don't stare at you."

"Yes you do, Alice. I see you in class when you think I'm not looking. I catch you starting at me in the halls, in the lunchroom. You watch me all the time. Why?" Her tone is curious and her eyes have a million questions hidden within the blue. My defenses go up fast before I can stop them, the walls that shoot up to protect me practically visible.

"How'd you know I was looking at you, if you weren't looking at me, Jane?" I sound cold and harsh, even to my own ears. Her cheeks flush and she looks away. I hate that this is our interaction with each other. It should be different. The first conversation we've ever had and it's just finger pointing and irritated looks.

"I don't know. I guess I was, a little. You're so...different." Spoon fed diplomacy since the day she was born, no doubt. Her voices lowers and sounds terse. "You know who you are. I wish...I don't know, it's stupid." She leans against the wall and slides down, her skirt bunching and rising up her thighs before she smooths it down.

I'm stuck in my spot. I want to crouch down and get in her face and pull the rest of the words out of her mouth. What does she wish? What does she want? I step toward her and mimic her actions, pressing my back to the wall and lowering myself until I'm sitting on the floor. I'm a few feet away from her, barely close enough to touch, but close enough that the scent of her is everywhere. I don't say anything. I don't know what to say.

"Alice, why do you look at me? Is it because you hate me?" Her voice is small and she wraps her arms around her knees, holding herself together. I don't answer and she goes on. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

All of my answers stick in my throat, choking me. I can't tell her how I feel about her, why I watch her. This is fucking high school, no one tells the truth here. Not that I give a shit for social standing but I can't just break down and tell her that I dream about her, that I long for her, that I spend most of my day thinking of all the ways I want her to belong to me. I can't.

Can I?

"Why do you have detention today, Jane?" It's a complete change of subject. I'm hiding and as she looks at me, I know she can tell. I don't know why she's here, but I want her to tell me. I want her to open up and be real with me, even though she doesn't know me. I want her to feel the connection that I feel, to make it real. "I mean, you aren't exactly the kind of girl that gets Saturday detention."

Her eyes narrow and become gasoline fire, blue and crackling. "What the fuck do you know about what kind of girl I am? You don't know a goddamn thing about me, Alice."

Her reaction shocks me. I've never heard her swear, never seen her so full of venom. I suck in breath and push it back out, willing myself to speak, calling on bravery I'm not sure I have but damn it, I am sick of looking and pretending and never talking.

"I know you, Jane. I know you better than you think, better than they do. I see how you have to work so hard to be their queen, how your heart isn't in it. I know that you are dying here, dying to get out of Forks just as much as I am. I've watched you wither here for two years. I know exactly what kind of girl you are because since I transferred here, I've barely seen anyone else. Don't tell me I don't know about you, because I might be the only person who really sees you." I'm too far gone to stop, even though this is where I should just shut my mouth. "You want to know why I watch you? You know that guy, the perfect guy that everyone in high school would die to have, the Edward Cullen. For me...that's you. You are the one I dream about having, the one _I_ would die to have. I watch you because when you are in the room, nothing else exists."

I place my palms on the cold linoleum floor and start to push myself up, when I feel her fingers, thin and warm, wrap around my wrist. My skin flames where she touches me and her voice, that perfect combo of sugar and steam and wonder, binds me to the floor. "Wait."

She's not looking at me, still staring straight ahead, but her hand stays wrapped around my flesh. When she finally turns, her eyes are bright with unshed tears and fear but I see something else there, something I've seen every night in my dreams, but never once in the cold light of day. She's looking at me, really seeing me. I'm shocked at how good it feels and how much it hurts. She's climbing inside me and knowing everything that I keep locked away, swimming in my veins and feeling me down to the bones. She's within me, filling me, but it's not the way I always imagined it would be.

"You see me, Alice. I don't know how, but you see all of me. Does anyone see you?" Her tone is not belittling or cruel; it's kind and that makes it worse.

I pull my hand away from her and push myself off the floor, brushing away the wetness there. I won't fucking cry. Not here, not to her. I walk away from her, unable to look back, one lead foot in front of the other.

"Alice, stop. I'm here...I got detention because I got caught giving Edward Cullen head in the auditorium, okay? Is that what you want to know?"

I keep going, walking away, letting her admission scorch through me like brushfire. I don't want to hear her say any more. I already knew, but I don't want the mouth that was wrapped around _his_ dick talking to me. I want it not to be real. I speed my steps and start running when I hit the corner, racing from the truth, trying to leave the reality of this back in that hallway. I slip into the library and sink into my chair silently.

The Marlboro worn voice of Rosalie Hale reaches across the space between the tables and smacks me in the face. "Where's your girlfriend?"

A rage I've never felt explodes in my chest and I launch myself out of my seat and right into her evil, bitchy face. "Shut the fuck up, you gutter slut. You don't know shit about me or my life and if you fucking open your mouth to me again, you better be prepared to get that knife out because I will end you." I'm leaning into her and she's leaning away, breathing hard.

"Ms. Brandon, what do you think you are doing?" I look up to see Mr. Berty taking it all in. I'm screwed, but I just don't fucking care anymore. Whatever I was holding on to, it's gone. The thought of her, the idea that she might, my heart...it's spilled all over the floor of the south hall and I'm not going back to pick it up. "Gather your things and come with me." I back away from Rose and grab my books, walking toward the front of the library. I follow Mr. Berty through the doors just as Jane is making her way back into the room. She tries to catch my eyes as she passes but I just stare at the floor. I can't see her anymore. I can't look at her, can't dream about her. It doesn't matter that she really saw me for a moment. I'm closing it off, locking it up.

Mr. Berty escorts me to the nurse's office and tells me I will be in there the rest of the day so that I don't cause any more trouble. A few snide remarks from him and then he's gone. I sit at the desk for a while, trying not to think, trying not to let it all back in. I get up and look out the windows, watching the breeze flutter through the trees. Soon, so soon, all of this will just be a memory. Forks, this school...her. She will just be this thing that I try and forget. She will creep in at night but I will shut her down. I won't let myself dream of her again. I'm only breaking my own heart.

"I do see you, you know." I jump at the sound of her voice behind me, but I don't turn around. "I do, Alice, I see you. I know you watch me, because I watch you, I'm just better at hiding. Years of practice, you know?"

I nod. I don't have words, they are all stuffed down inside me where I can't reach them because my throat is full of wanting to believe her.

"You can't wait to leave this place. You think everything will be different when you get...wherever it is you're going. You think it's this small town and these small minds that won't let you be who you are. You feel small here, lost, like you don't exist, and you're right. Forks is no place for someone like you. You are so bright, so amazing, but you don't know any of that. You believe what they think about you on some level, and you're going to take it all with you. You're going to take _you_ wherever you go and nothing is going to change. You hide, all the time, and you are going to keep hiding because you just might be the one thing someone wants you to be. I hide because I have to. You hide because you want to."

She's right, baring all my truths and she's been walking closer, her words wrapping around me. She's not touching me, but the decreasing space between us is tangible. Her breath is on my neck and her heat is everywhere.

"Why are you in detention today, Alice?" I turn and face her, meeting her eyes and seeing that she already knows the answer.

"I pulled the fire alarm." It's half the truth, and not the answer she wants.

"Why?" I feel the air move around my face when she speaks.

"I knew you had detention and I...I wanted to be here because you would be." I am about to go on when she leans forward and presses her lips into mine, warm and soft and parted already. I'm frozen and I just stand there, not kissing her back and just letting her move her mouth against my skin. I've never dreamed this, never dared hope that she would be kissing me first but she is, soft and slow and insistent.

I pull back slightly. "Why did you do that?"

She smirks, and is coy for a moment. "I knew you wouldn't." She pushes closer and her hands are moving to touch my face, my neck. She's sliding her tongue over my growing smile, easing in between my lips and begging me to meet her halfway. I let her in and I sigh at the sweet taste of her, the feel of her inside me, even if it's just a little. Time falls away as we stand there. I move my hands to her waist, pulling her against me and she just keeps kissing me, hot and languid and not really going anywhere but going everywhere too. She finally breaks away and rests her forehead on my shoulder. I turn my head and breathe in the sunshine of her golden hair.

"I have to get back. Mr. Berty will call my father if he finds out I snuck in here. Alice, I..."

"Don't. I know...I don't need you to tell me." I can't bear to hear her say it. I know that Monday morning will bring more of the same, she'll take her throne and I'll try to fade out of the light. She'll be their golden girl and I'll be their dirty secret. It's high school, we all have out role, but we won't always be here. As she walks toward the door, she pauses and turns.

"Alice, where are you going to school?"

"New York. NYU. Why?"

"I'm going to Columbia. Maybe I'll see you around the city." New York is huge and the likelihood of us just running into one another is small. She smiles softly as she walks out the door. She's the only one who has ever seen me, and I know I'm the only one who ever really saw her. She'll be there and I'll be there and I can always dream.

"Yeah, Jane. I'll see you."

**A/N: **Thanks to **bookjunkie1975** for her comma wisdom and for being the wind in my sails and to **lightstardust**, **venis-envy** and **miztrezboo** for making sure she was seaworthy. When I forget why, they are all my remember.

Thank you all for reading. Hearts :)

Special thanks to **Camoozle**, as this is for her. She said Alice/Jane, I thought 'I don't know' and then I found this picture (http:/29(dot)media(dot)tumblr(dot)com/tumblr_ky6xh9aaT01qa06p2o1_400(dot)jpg) and it all clicked. I hope you love it, sweets!


	2. Moving On

**~Moving On~**

**Author Pen Name: venis-envy**

**Summary: ****When the one you love is taken from you, how much time does the heart need to heal? Can Bella move on from her past, or will fading memories hinder her chance at happiness? AH/SLASH f/f that means GIRL very very very NON canon pairings.**

**Alrighty. Here it is…**

**Judge me not, lest ye be judged yer**_**damn**_**self. This is femmeslash. For those of you not quite familiar with the fandom vernacular, that means girl-on-girl action.**

**Many thanks to the beautiful evieeden for rearranging my commas for me, and to fardareismai2 for pre-reading this.**

**Disclaimer: I own a few things. Books, furniture, a house, a car, a dog, a toy box (I won't go into what's in**_**there**_**). The Twilight characters, however, I do not own. And to be perfectly honest, pretty sure SM would fall over dead if she read this.**

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

There's nothing that replicates the feeling of letting go—the utter loss of hope that causes your very soul to just give up and curl into itself. Natural survival instincts take action, dragging you through ordinary tasks, basic needs; eat, sleep, breathe.

She was gone before she was mine, and still I loved her with everything I had. I knew it couldn't last—we both did—but she deserved to be loved, to be touched and kissed and held. I often wondered what our lives would be like had the cancer not taken her from me.

I'd met her the day she was diagnosed, sitting in the park under a tree, silent tears trailing down her beautiful face. I watched her for a while before I had approached her, offering her a daisy and a shoulder. No one had ever looked so alone.

Her doctors had little hope, but we had faith that nothing was impossible. Those words rang through our existence until they became meaningless, faded, withered to only two: faith, nothing.

I had found her journal months after she'd passed, buried in a box in the closet with my name on it. I had carried it with me everywhere I went, but hadn't the courage to open it until the anniversary of her death.

It was filled with words of affection, plans for our future, pictures of us together. A photo she had taken of me wearing an open-back summer dress. I remembered that day better than most, one of her less fragile days.

We had been at the beach most of the afternoon, lying in the sand together as the waves caressed our feet and our fingertips explored one another. She'd written a poem on my back. I wish I remembered it now. I wish I remembered more of her, of us. The emptiness still hurt, but the memories were fading. Like old photographs, they seemed to lack the color they'd once had.

"Lauren." I whisper her name aloud for the first time in over a year, just to see how it tastes on my tongue. It's bitter with a slight undercurrent of sweet, like biting into a plum only to find out it isn't quite ripe yet. A tear escapes me and I wipe it away quickly as I rinse my mouth, placing my toothbrush back in its holder.

I have a date tonight. It's not my first with Rebecca. My father, Charlie, had set us up four months ago when he saw that none of the others were working out.

She is beautiful and nice, but aside from that, she's opposite Lauren in every way. Quiet and reserved where Lauren had been sarcastic, funny and confidant; her natural skin tone is that of a tanned beach goddess and she has gentle waves of dark hair cascading down her back, while Lauren had been porcelain-pale with straight blond hair that shone like gold in the sunlight.

Dating is hard after what I've gone through, but I'm ready to move on. I had packed Lauren's journal away months ago with the intention of keeping her memories close while still setting my heart free. I knew then that it was time. It's not that I want to replace her—no one ever will—but I've spent enough time grieving and though part of me knows I always will, I also know it's no way to spend the rest of my life. I had loved her so deeply, but I've paid my dues in tears. I deserve to find my spot of sunshine in the bitter darkness that's surrounded me for so long now, and Rebecca is that spot. She is warmth and happiness, comfort and joy.

I'm just so afraid of betraying Lauren's memory though. I fear that allowing myself the comfort of soft skin and warm lips will take away the cherished memory of her tender embrace and raspberry-flavored kisses.

Rebecca and I practically grew up together. Her father and mine were the best of friends. I'd come to Forks for the summer to visit Charlie and we'd spend most days out at the Quileute reservation with the Black family. Rebecca's little brother, Jacob, had always had a crush on me.

I was glad that I'd never had to hide my true self from my family. My father and I had been close enough that even at the age of thirteen he could tell that I wasn't as interested in boys as I probably should have been. As much as I was sure he would have liked to see his only daughter settle down with a nice guy and start a family one day, he never pushed me to be someone I wasn't. He never pressured me or made me feel guilty for being the way that I was.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Taking a deep, calming breath, I open the door and step inside. I give the maître d' my name and wait patiently as he verifies my reservation. He smiles when he finds me on the list and directs me to the lounge to wait for my table.

My eyes find her immediately, sitting at the bar, looking just as gorgeous as she always does.

Rebecca radiates warmth and happiness—from her bright smile framed by full, pouty lips, to her smooth, toned calves. Everything about her is beautiful.

I watch her for a moment from my spot by the door as she engages in conversation with the bronze-haired barkeep. I can't hear what they are saying, but it's clear that he is hitting on her.

Jealousy spikes and I fight down the urge to rush across the room and press my lips to her neck, claiming her as my own. Maybe it isn't fair of me to feel that way after I've already been granted so much love in my life, but the feeling is there nonetheless. I'm selfish and I want her and I don't feel bad about that.

Four months we've been dating, with little to no physical contact. I know Rebecca is giving me time to adjust to the new relationship. I know she's waiting for me to be ready. She's afraid of hurting me, worried I'm still too fragile, but she's wrong.

I watch her smile politely before darting a glance around the room and then back to the bartender. How she misses me standing there is beyond me. I'm practically burning a hole in her slight, form-fitting dress with my gaze.

What I wouldn't give to have that dress on my bedroom floor,to have her crying out my name as my fingers pound into her.

I shake my head to clear it of those thoughts. Rebecca thinks I'm broken and perhaps I am, but that doesn't mean I'm not healing.

The red cocktail dress she's wearing shouts confidence, but the timid smile on her face suggests otherwise. She doesn't even realize how amazing she is.

I find myself glancing down at my own gown for the third time since entering the lounge. There's nothing spectacular about me, nothing memorable. I'm ordinary, from my dull brown hair to my slightly-less-than-average-sized breasts. The dress I'm wearing is blue, halter-necked and—as Lauren used to say—very Marilyn Monroe, but that doesn't change the fact that my curves aren't quite able to fill it out anymore.

It's not typical of me to be nervous and unsure of myself, but tonight is different. Everything is about to change between us and, sink or swim, I'm diving in.

Smoothing the skirt of my dress once more, I make my way down the steps to the lounge. My stomach is tangled in knots of nerves and anxiety and before I reached her at the bar, I veer off course, making a bee-line for the ladies room.

I take a deep breath, staring into the mirror and running my fingers through my hair. Perhaps I should have straightened it or even pulled it up instead of leaving it loose. I shouldn't be nervous. I know Rebecca. I know she cares about me.

I check my makeup one last time before exiting the restroom. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes permeates the air and I find myself relaxing into the gentle sounds of the piano being played in the dimly lit corner. With each step nearer, my confidence grows. With each breath I take closer to her, the more potent her scent becomes. Strawberries and vanilla and everything delicious I wanted to lick from her smooth skin.

I sidle up onto the stool beside her, making certain to brush my hip against her thigh as I slowly cross my legs. I haven't looked her in the eyes yet for fear of destroying my resolve.

"Bartender," I say, calling the attention of the bronze-haired gentleman.

"Edward," he corrects, offering me what I'm certain is meant to be a dazzling, panty-dropping smile.

_Don't waste your amo by shooting into the sky, buddy,_ I think to myself.

"Edward." I smile back at him. "Can I get a Martini, please?"

Edward returns a few minutes later, handing me my drink before resting his hands on the bar in front of me.

"So, what's your name, sweetheart?" he asks, and I almost want to vomit. Not because he isn't good looking, not even because he's so clearly conceited, but because the only person who ever called me sweetheart was Lauren.

I have to wonder again if I'm making the right decision, if it's okay to be here...if it's okay to let myself feel again.

"Bella." I extend my hand politely and he takes it.

"Ah, a name to match your beauty," he says, kissing the back of my hand.

_Well, this asshole is certainly full of himself._

Arching an eyebrow, I pull my hand back, resisting the urge to wipe away his kiss on the skirt of my dress.

Turning my attention to the brown-eyed woman beside me, I can't help but smile. I feel happy. I feel relaxed. I _do_ feel.

I need someone, but not just anyone will do. I know the worst possible way to betray Lauren's memory is to throw myself into something meaningless and devoid of emotion. It isn't who I am, nor is it who I want to be.

I do care for Rebecca. I don't love her. Despite the fact that we have been family friends since we were children, I hardly know her—not on a personal level, at least. I know _about_ her though. All the things that people notice on the surface, the things that become more deep-rooted over time, but in the beginning mean very little to most people. They're important to me though. Like the sound of her voice, soft with a slightly sharp edge; her hair, long and dark, almost black, but not quite; the freckles she has on her shoulders from summers on the beach of La Push. I know her favorite drink and the way she laughs when we watch _50 First Dates_, her favorite movie. Even though we aren't really physical with one another, I've slept beside her. I know that she keeps a worn copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_on her bedside table and that she snores after just one glass of wine.

I may not love her now, but I see the possibility of it.

It's such a strange and complex emotion, I don't think any two cases of it have ever been the same. I know that Alice is right. She's my best friend and sometimes seems to know me better than I know myself. I might not ever be able to replicate the love Lauren and I had together, but that doesn't mean I won't love again.

"Hey," I say to her. "You look amazing." I can hear the nervousness in my tone and I hope that she can't, even though I'm sure that she does.

She averts her eyes shyly and again I smile. When she looks back at me through her thick lashes, I can see the longing in her gaze and it makes my heart ache with need. She's so beautiful.

"Thank you, Bella," she says softly, a delicious sound coming from equally delicious lips.

I bite my own lip, fighting back a groan as I visualize her mouth on my body. Soft and warm and everything I need.

The bartender clears his throat as if to remind us of his annoying presence.

Rebecca laughs, the angelic sound of which sends a glorious warmth throughout my body and suddenly the only thought in my mind is the taste of her lips.

When she kisses me, it's always so gentle, so soft and careful. I want more.

I decide to drop the pretence. Leaning into her, I press a delicate kiss to her ruby lips. I know she doesn't mind public affection and if the arrogant bartender does, I don't care.

The maître d' comes to collect us and leads us through the French doors, between tables to a quiet spot by the window. The atmosphere in the restaurant is calm and quiet, peaceful. Soft sounds of the piano are carrying through the air, muted by the wall between the dining room and lounge, and it offers the perfect amount of romance for us.

She smiles sweetly at me as we place our orders. My emotions are still running a gamut of nerves and anxiety mixed with desire and longing.

Self-doubt begins to take root and while we make light conversation on the surface, underneath I can't help but question everything I am, all that I've become. Am I pretty enough? Smart enough? Do I have anything at all to contribute to a meaningful relationship, or am I merely a hollow shell of the vibrant girl I once was?

The waiter brings us our food and we sit in silence as he refills our wine glasses. Once he has turned to walk away, Rebecca reaches her hand across the table, pausing in the center. I wonder if this is some sort of test, a way for her to be certain she isn't pushing me.

My hand meets hers without hesitation and I sigh with relief at the contact. Her smooth skin is cool from the water glass she had been holding and I want to warm her, to take her hands in mine and breathe my hot breath onto her, but I know even a gesture as simple as that will lead to more, and this is neither the time nor the place.

We both withdraw our hands and reach for our glasses, toasting to freedom and life and joy and all of the things that scratch the surface but dare not venture deeper.

As the night wears on, we talk about the past and discuss our possible future and it all seems so natural and easy. I smile at the way things fall into place and fit together so seamlessly and I think to myself that it would be as easy as breathing to love Rebecca.

"I've always cared about you, Bella," she says, and I feel the blush spreading up my neck and across my cheeks. "You're so strong and brave. I envy you that." Her nail idly traces along the seam of her napkin as she stares intently at the linen. "I used to wish I had half the courage you did."

I don't respond to her words, but I feel that I should, that she deserves to know I'm a fraud. My courage is a mask I wear in the presence of the people I care most about, but behind closed doors I'm a scared little girl, lost in a world of unfamiliar faces and alien emotions.

Finally I tell her this, in not so many words, but she'll hear nothing of it. She had been so afraid to tell her family about her lifestyle that it wasn't until a year after she'd left for college that she finally came out.

I tell her that she's beautiful, because she is, and that she should never envy anyone else, she should never want to be anyone other than her incredible self.

It's all true. She's so kind and caring, and though it took a while to get past her diffident exterior, I know all of this now.

She isn't Lauren, and that's more than okay with me. She smells different and looks different and carries herself differently and I think this is a good thing. I don't want to replace Lauren, I don't want to forget her or us, but I want to move on. I'm ready to put my life back together.

We leave the restaurant at a quarter to ten, both of us smiling, both of us happy. Rebecca hails a cab because we've had perhaps a little too much wine and the two of us talk and laugh all the way to her apartment on Fourth Street.

She pays the fare as we step out of the cab and I make a Fresh Prince of Bel-Air reference that sends the two of us into another fit of giggles. It earns me a hateful comment and crude gesture from the irritated cabbie, but my heart is light and his words slide off me as we wave him away and make our way up to the fifth floor.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

We don't bother turning on any lights once inside the apartment, simply counting on the full moon to light our way as it casts its silver beams through the windows.

We make our way down the hall silently; the only sounds are that of our heels clicking on the hardwood floors. I take her hand as we enter the room, urging her to face me. I know her nightly routine. I'm aware that she's on her way to her dresser where she'll get us each a pair of comfortable pajamas before turning on a movie to watch as we curl up together for the night.

My hand trails up her arm and I run my thumb along the hollow of her collarbone. I feel her tense slightly beneath my touch and I try to convey to her with just my eyes and my hands how much I truly want her.

Her hands are on me now, one moving up and down my forearm while the fingertips of the other dance up the column of my throat.

Rebecca's soft lips meet mine, gentle and delicate. I sigh as she pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before brushing her knuckles down my cheek.

My hand finds hers, pressing her palm to my face as I close my eyes, savoring the warmth, the much-needed contact. I can smell the faint fragrance of her perfume as the quickening pulse in her wrist helps to enhance it.

Moving her hand to my mouth, I press my lips to her palm. My eyes are closed, but I can feel her watching me, I can hear her shallow breathing.

She seems calm and sure now, and I feel a sense of relief wash over me at this realization. I want tonight to be the night I give myself over to her. I want her to know that I belong to her now, that I care and that I won't turn away.

"Bella," she whispers my name and my eyes flutter open to meet her gaze.

Her irises are darker than their usual brown; lust-filled as she stares back at me, communicating all of her own desires.

She unfastens the clasp at the back of my halter-neck, trailing sensual kisses from one shoulder across to the other as she gently pulls my dress down off me. My breath hitches as I try to fight down the urge to cover myself. I'm nearly naked and natural instincts tell me that I'm vulnerable, on display to be judged, but as reason wins control of my thoughts, I know that it's just she and I. She never judges me, she protects me, wraps me in her warmth and sunshine and kisses and there isn't anything for me to be scared of with her.

I push all errant thoughts out of my mind, set aside my worries and fears and focus entirely on this moment. Here and now is right where I belong, and certainly right where I want to be.

Her small hands move carefully across my stomach as she takes a step back and looks at me. I see sadness in her eyes and I want to make it go away, but I'm not entirely sure why it's there. Something inside is telling me that she's still worried—that she doesn't want it to seem as if she's taking advantage of me, so I decide that it's time for me to take the initiative.

Slowly, I move around behind her and brush her hair over her shoulder. I gently drag my fingernails down her back, stopping just above the swell of her ass before moving back up again. She shivers and I smile, leaning forward and placing a tender, open-mouthed kiss against her shoulder. I slide her zipper down, pushing her dress down over her hips. It falls to the floor, pooling at her feet and she kicks it aside. Unclasping her bra, I slide the straps down her arms, trailing kisses along its path before that too is tossed to the side.

Rebecca's body is gorgeous. She's a few inches taller than me, slim with a perfect hourglass figure. Her hair is still over one shoulder and her head is tilted to the side just slightly, enough to expose her slender neck to me in the moonlight.

I move forward again, pressing my body against her back as my hands snake around her waist. My mouth explores the skin of her neck, honey-sweet and slightly salty; the perfect combination that makes up Rebecca.

She moans and leans back into me as my hand slides up her flat stomach to her breast, the other moving down to the juncture of her thighs. I worry for a moment that I'm moving too fast, but then she places her hand against mine and guides the way. Warm turns to hot as our joined hands find their way beneath her lacy panties and my fingers move through the soft hair. I stop my descent and slide my hand back up her stomach as I move around to face her once more.

Her head is still tilted, eyes closed and lips parted. The glow of the moonlight enhances her already angelic appearance. I know that she's just as gorgeous in the day, and perhaps it's the emotional pull of the moment, but I can't help but hope tomorrow's sunlight will be dim so that it doesn't blind me to this memory.

My hands are still on her, exploring the soft skin of her neck, her firm breasts, her freckled shoulders. I want to stop and take a moment to admire her beauty, but I can't seem to bring myself to break contact long enough.

My hands move to her hips as I close the distance between us once again. My mouth finds hers and I hum with the pleasure of her soft lips against my own.

She wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me against her, my hardened nipples rub enticingly against the swell of her breasts just beneath her own peaks. She drags her soft lips along my jaw, back to my ear where her hot breath caresses my skin and causes me to shiver.

Turning us toward the bed, she gently coaxes me down onto the soft comforter. I slide to the middle as she climbs up over me, need radiating from every inch of her body. She looks me in the eyes for a long moment, neither of us breathing, before she lowers her mouth to mine. She kisses me softly, her tongue sliding against mine as her hand moves up my arm.

I can feel her heated center against my thigh and I moan at the sensation as I grab her hips and shift my leg against her. Her lips part and she exhales a shaky breath as I repeat the motion.

My hands slide across her hips to her flat stomach and then lower, until I can feel the lace of her panties at my fingertips once more.

It's been so long that I'm not even entirely sure of what I'm doing anymore, but I know that I want to taste her.

Again I push down all self-doubt as I roll to the side, bringing her with me, and press my lips to hers more forcefully this time. It's urgent and desperate, reflecting my need for her.

I kiss her chin, her jaw, her neck, marking a lustful path to her chest. My mouth explores her breasts, avoiding the dusty-rose colored peaks in an attempt to drive her mad with want. My plan backfires as her fingers tangle into my hair and her moans of pleasure send waves of lust throughout my body. I pull a hardened nipple into my mouth, scraping it with my teeth, circling it with my tongue.

I move to the other side, paying the same attention to her other breast before sliding down her body. Her stomach muscles twitch as my tongue traces a path down the middle.

Out of the corner of my eye, something catches my attention. I turn to see tendrils of ink that twist and turn from her hip to her ribcage; a beautiful tattoo of tangling vines and small star-shaped flowers. I trace it with my fingertips as I admire it, and then bend my head to follow the lines with my tongue.

I draw back from her, sitting on my heels, taking in her beauty. She moans as I hook my thumbs into her panties and slide them down her long legs.

I lick her thigh before sucking the sensitive skin between my lips and her fingers tangle into my hair again.

Moving closer to her sweet center, I can actually feel the heat radiating from her body. Her skin holds a delicate floral fragrance that differs from that of the perfume on her wrists, from bath salts or lotion, I can't be certain. It's beautiful and feminine, just like Rebecca, but it still doesn't mask her natural fragrance, sweet and musky as I draw nearer.

I kiss her thighs as my hands caress her hips and stomach until I positively can't wait any longer. I gently run one finger up her moist pussy, followed by my tongue.

She tastes delicious and I hum with pleasure as I slide my tongue back down again. She whimpers and I smile against her before continuing.

Moving my finger to her clit, I press down making tight circles as I push my tongue into her. She groans again and her hands leave my hair, gripping instead the sheets beside her. Sliding my tongue in and out, I savor the taste of her, the feel of her.

I pull back slightly to look up at her. Her head is tilted to the side again in what has suddenly become my favorite pose. I love that I can see her long, slender neck as she bites down on her full bottom lip.

Dipping my head back down, I suck her clit into my mouth roughly as I move my tongue against it in an urgent rush.

Her moans turn to shaky cries of pleasure as I push two fingers into her, moving in and out. Her hips come up off the bed and with my free hand, I push her back down. I curl my fingers with each outward stroke as I continue to suck and lick her sensitive bud of nerves. I can feel the tension building in her, her legs tremble slightly as her fingers dig into the sheets. She arches her back and I feel her walls clenching around my fingers as my name and the name of her creator slide off her lips in one sweet breath.

I offer her no time for recovery as I continue to caress her heated sex with the flat of my tongue. She tastes even better now and I tell her that as my fingers explore that sweet spot inside her once again. She writhes and shifts her hips upward. She looks so incredible, her body arching with her pleasure; pleasure that _I'm_ able to bring her. She cries out as she comes again, rocking into me.

I withdraw my fingers, sliding them up to her sensitive clit and causing her to twitch before bringing them to my mouth. She's watching me with hooded eyes, licking her own lip as I suck my fingers into my mouth.

All at once she sits up, wrapping an arm around my waist for support as her other hand pushes through my hair. She brings her mouth to mine, her tongue traces my bottom lip and she moans at the taste of herself there.

Clumsily, we shift our legs until I find myself straddling her, begging for some sort of friction. Any will do.

She bites down on my bottom lip as I rub myself against her. Her hands are on my back now, nails tracing gentle lines up and down as her tongue tangles with my own.

The taste of her sex was nothing short of perfect, but here, with out mouths connected and her sweet flavor echoing back to me from her own delicious tongue, I was surely in heaven.

She makes a heated path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck and to my breast where she takes a nipple into her mouth.

I whimper at the sensation that shoots through my body and grind against her even harder.

Her hands move to my hips and help to guide me as her teeth scrape along my hardened nipple, first one, and then the other.

I throw my head back as her mouth moves back up the column of my throat, her hot breath fanning out against my skin. Her hand moves to my heated center and she begins to rub with her palm as her fingers slip inside of me.

I cry out with pleasure as I rest my forehead against her shoulder. Despite the petite size of her hands, her fingers seem to fill me, hitting all the right places as the heel of her palm presses into my clit.

My hands find her breasts and I roll her nipples between my fingers as I kiss and lick her shoulder.

Every part of her is delicious and I bask in the feel of her body against mine as her fingers move in and out of me.

The familiar pleasure begins to build low in my stomach and I quicken my pace, grinding against her hand.

She nips at my neck and I tug at her hair. I attack her lips once more, biting and sucking fiercely as my muscles clench.

Ecstasy pulses through me as my surroundings fade away and only she remains; beautiful, glowing in the light of the moon.

Eventually, when we are both sated, we fall onto the bed together, holding each other tightly as she drifts into a restful sleep. I watch her as the moonlight plays across her skin, her eyelashes dance on her cheek bones as though she's dreaming. Her breathing is slow and even and I lean over, placing a tender kiss on her shoulder before whispering to her that I love her.

And it's the truth. I know now that I do. I'm so very grateful to have her, but at the same time, I'm so scared of losing her. Things happen, anything could steal her away from me just as Lauren was taken. I can't live my life afraid to love again though, I know I must embrace the day and never allow a single moment to slip through my fingers.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

**A/N**

**O.o**


	3. Moments One

**~Moments~**

**Author Pen Name: MsKathy**

**Summary: A series of snapshots looking into the lives of Heidi and Rose.**

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

I loved women.

I loved their breasts, the curve and shape, the way they felt in my hands. I never paid attention to the size or shape, if one was bigger, or if the nipple on the left was higher; silly insecurities.

I liked a woman with shape - hips and ass, places to hold and tease while we fucked. Surfaces to skim, slick parts to arouse.

I loved the way their bodies responded, skin puckering and turning pink at each touch, lick, bite, and blow.

My name is Rosalie Hale, and I liked to fuck.

Then I met her.

**A/N: **This is the first in a series of five drabbles**. ****In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	4. Moments Two

**~Moments~**

**Author Pen Name: MsKathy**

**Summary: A series of snapshots looking into the lives of Heidi and Rose.**

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Fucking straw.

She was sucking on that straw again, ruby lips wrapped around it as she teased me. Her eyes moved to mine as if she could hear my thoughts; thoughts of bending her over and putting that pretty mouth to good use all over me. I tried to look appropriately guilty, but just couldn't.

"What'cha thinkin' about so hard over here?"

As she spoke, her hands moved to my inner thighs, finding the seam of my stockings. I traced a fingertip down between her breasts, soft and supple, full and constantly demanding my attention.

"You," I replied. "Always you."

**A/N:** This is the second in a series of five drabbles**. ****In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	5. Moments Three

**~Moments~**

**Author Pen Name: MsKathy**

**Summary: A series of snapshots looking into the lives of Heidi and Rose.**

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Her hands moved to my hair and she pulled me in for a kiss. What began as soft and slow quickly escalated to hot and needy; then the catcalls began.

"Later," she whispered, a promise I'd hold her to.

When work was over and Heidi came home, I was waiting and ready. I'd changed into something new and tiny, reclined on the bed, and smiled at her when she came into the room.

Once she'd undressed, she did the same for me, removing my clothes far slower than her own.

Her mouth met mine, and I was greedy for more.

**A/N:** This is the third in a series of five drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	6. Moments Four

**~Moments~**

**Author Pen Name: MsKathy**

**Summary: A series of snapshots looking into the lives of Heidi and Rose.**

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Fingers wove together, hands skimming surfaces and demanding.

Soft and wet, her lips moved the length of my body. Each time they landed against my skin, it was another visceral reminder of how much she wanted me. When she reached my toes, she spread my legs, planting my feet against the soft comforter on the bed.

Wordlessly, she made her way back up the other leg, kissing and nuzzling, until she was at the center of my body. Her smooth skin brushed mine every chance it could, in each spot we could connect.

Sweating, exhausted, hoarse, we fell asleep tangled.

**A/N:** This is the fourth in a series of five drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	7. Moments Five

**~Moments~**

**Author Pen Name: MsKathy**

**Summary: A series of snapshots looking into the lives of Heidi and Rose.**

**All copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. The remaining content is all mine. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.**

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

When we met, I loved Heidi for her body.

When we fell in love, it was an infinite list of attributes I could rattle off, if you had a few hours to spare.

When we moved in together, it was complicated and messy. Ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends, parents, bosses. There were break-ups and make-ups, just like every other relationship. But we made it work.

When she had our baby, we were surrounded by love.

As she laid in bed, body and spirit consumed by illness, we were again surrounded by love. Her family and mine. Blood and chosen.

Tears shed from all.

**A/N:** This is the last in the series of five drabbles. I can't begin to thank **MsKathy** enough for gracing us with her beautiful words. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	8. Like a Hurricane

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

She is cooking when I come home. I stand in the doorway watching her hips move in time to whatever song she hears in her head. She is beautiful, bare feet shifting on the cold floor, freckled skin warmed to gold in the slant of light from the kitchen window. She chops and stirs and sautees, all the while humming and swaying and I think _there is magic here_. And then she turns and sees me. She smiles so wide it almost hurts to breath. Her joy shines right out of her and I know: there really is magic here.

**A/N:**This is the first in a series of fifteen drabbles.**In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	9. Like a Hurricane 2

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

We met at the bar I run. A local band was on stage, singing whiskey-voiced songs of a bayou they'd never seen, and the music hung heavy in the air. She had her arms up and her eyes closed and I could almost see the notes swirling around her as she moved. It is always music with Victoria. Later that night she pressed a slip of paper to my palm and whispered words that set my skin on fire and my heart to pounding. I forgot how to speak. She did it for me. "You're Tanya, right? Call me sometime."

**A/N:**This is the first in a series of fifteen drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	10. Like a Hurricane 3

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

"Taste this." She holds a wooden spoon to my lips and I'm met with a combination of tomato and garlic and earthy spices.

"Needs more oregano," I tease.

She stretches up on her toes and leans into me. I can feel her breath, warm against my face and then her tongue is gliding lightly along my lips and she hums, satisfied.

"No it doesn't," she chides. "It's perfect."

"Is there a reason you asked for my opinion?"

"To make you feel useful."

She smirks and turns back to her pot but I catch her hand and pull her to me.

**A/N:**This is the third in a series of fifteen drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	11. Like a Hurricane 4

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Things with Victoria are easy, until they're not. When she's happy, I am her anchor, the one who keeps her grounded - her centre. I am her world. We move through our life in balance. When things are rough I'm too controlling. I'm holding her back. She rages, storming through our house, wild and uncontrolled. She calls me cold. I'm too contained. I'm ice. Her words come hot and fast and burn with her fury. But it always ends as quickly as it starts. I pull her back and she draws me out and we meet again, in the middle.

**A/N: **This is the fourth in a series of fifteen drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	12. Like a Hurricane 5

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

"Come home with me." My hand tightens around hers as I watch the smile fade from her lips.

"We are home."

"I mean to Alaska. Come home to Alaska with me."

She pulls away, turning her back to me. She's stirring the sauce and not looking at me. Then she's wiping the counter. And not looking at me.

"Please, Torie."

She stops. Stands still.

"Why?"

"I want my family to know who I am."

"They do."

"But they don't know you."

"So?"

"Victoria, you are the biggest part of me."

She turns to me, and finally, she sees.

"I'll go."

**A/N: **This is the fifth in a series of fifteen drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	13. Like a Hurricane 6

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

"You have horrible taste in men." I nipped at her ear as she settled her arm around me, pulling me close.

"That's why I don't do men anymore."

Her laugh was husky and my skin pebbled as my stomach tightened. I stared across the bonfire at her past and wondered what she ever saw in James. He was loud and abrasive, his gaze disturbingly intense. But he was looking at the tiny brunette dancing just beyond the flames, adoration naked on his face. Torie's hand found mine. Our fingers tangled together and she made a contented noise.

"Let's go home."

**A/N:**This is the sixth in a series of fifteen drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	14. Like a Hurricane 7

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

"This music sucks."

"Plug the ipod in."

"We've been listening to it for the last 6 hours." Torie leans forward and fiddles with the buttons on the car radio. She flies by station after station until the words and music and static blur together. She sighs, flicks the radio off and presses her head against the window.

"You're the one who wanted to drive," I remind her.

"We'll stop soon. Just a few more miles to the border…"

"I want to stop here. At the next hotel." Her voice shakes a little and her fingers are twisting in knots.

"Okay."

**A/N:**This is the seventh in a series of fifteen drabbles. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	15. Like a Hurricane 8

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Our first kiss was a disaster. It was all teeth and tongue and fumbling hands. And I was drunk. She stopped it. She took me home, fed me coffee and pancakes and then put me to bed. Alone. I still remember waking up between clean cotton sheets, and the sound of Torie humming in the other room. Later she told me she was scared I would regret that kiss. That I would run from it and that she couldn't be my mistake. There have been countless perfect kisses since that day, but that, I think, was the beginning of us.

**A/N:**This is the eighth in a series of fifteen drabbles**. ****In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	16. Like a Hurricane 9

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

The hotel door clicks shut and she's pushing me against the wall, tongue and lips and teeth scraping against my skin as her fingers grasp and pull at my shirt.

"Tor…"

She pushes my skirt up and my panties down and sinks to her knees. She is need and lust and want and I shake against the wall as her tongue strokes and teases and swirls and then she's inside me, her fingers, her tongue, but it's not enough. It's never enough. I want all of her. I pull her up, guide her to the bed and together, we fall.

**A/N: **This is the ninth in a series of fifteen drabbles**. ****In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	17. Like a Hurricane 10

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

"I'm afraid that if they don't like me you won't want me anymore. I'm afraid that you'll walk away."

We are lying in the hotel bed, skin still flushed, fingers lightly touching. I roll onto my side, my heart stuttering in my chest.

"What?"

"Your family. You're all so close and they mean so much to you. How can I compete?"

"It's not a contest, Victoria."

"Isn't it?"

She rolls away, stands and walks quietly to the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind her.

I stare at that door for a long time wondering how I failed her so badly.

**A/N:**This is the tenth in a series of twelve drabbles. I'm not sure why I thought it was fifteen, so only two left. Both will post tomorrow. **In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	18. Like a Hurricane 11

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Torie came to California with nothing but a worn out canvas duffel bag and her guitar. Her family was long gone and she had nowhere else to be. She says it was just blind luck that James was the first person she met and that wanderlust was as deeply a part of him as it was her. They traveled up and down the state, playing their music and working odd jobs. Sometimes they shared a bed, sometimes their bodies. It worked until he met Alice. She became his roots…his home. Torie says she couldn't understand it. Until she met me.

**A/N: **This is the eleventh in a series of twelve drabbles**. ****In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


	19. Like a Hurricane 12

**~Like a Hurricane~**

**Author Pen Name: bookjunkie1975**

**Summary: A series of Victoria/Tanya drabbles. **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.

~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~

Torie comes out of the bathroom wet and wrapped in a towel so small it doesn't completely close at the hip. I sit on the bed, naked and determined. She tilts her head as she looks at me, then the towel is on the floor and she's sitting cross-legged in front of me. I take her hands in mine. I look into her eyes, into the brown and green and gold. I put all of myself into the words I speak. I will her to see. I will her to believe.

"I love you. It's you and me, Victoria. Always."

There are certain words that can't be spoken, feelings that can not be truly expressed. Sometimes, it's better to speak using different tools. And so I _show_ Torie all the things I can't say. I lay her back against the bed. My hands roam across her body seeking out every curve, every angle, memorizing the feel of her. I kiss her, slow and sweet and full of promise. We lie face to face and I watch as my hands undo her and then put her back together. She pulls me close.

"Always?" she whispers, words hot against my mouth.

"Forever."

**A/N: **This is the last in a series of twelve drabbles**. ****In the Land of Women **is a collaborative story effort. We are actively looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.


End file.
